New Begining
by lizzie6376
Summary: The news he told us was that he had found a permanent safe living quarters,since he thought we were tired of living in hotels,which we were.So we packed up our bags and started on a three day car ride to Michigan.To a refuge area.Where it's supposed safe.
1. New Day

**DUN DUN DUNNNNN! ****I'm back! ****So here's my new story. ****I hope ya'll like it!  
(Yes it is close to The Continueing. I still liked how I was going to take that story but since it no longer is in process since The Reckoning came out I decided to twist it to some new terms.)**

**DON'T OWN!**

**Special shout out to my new Beta reader! Thanks you...again.**

**Oh and also Cuzzie Josie, though all she did was listen to my ideas**...**. All well! Thanks for the extra ear to my over imaginative mind!**

**(Chloe's P.O.V.)**

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_~ I woke up this morning_

_Feeling Alright_

_I've been fightin' for tomorrow_

_All my life_

_Yeah, I woke up this morning_

_Feeling Brand New_

_'Cause the dreams I've been dreaming_

_Have finally came true_

_It's a new day~_

_-Will I Am, It's A New Day._

I never realized how stressed I was until the steaming water hit me. Like a flip of a switch, I was from over the edge of my frying nerves to calm, nothingness. I felt great for the first time in the last couple of days. My head felt lighter and my shoulders hang slump. I didn't even know I'd even put the shampoo in my hair until I opened my eyes and it soaked in; stinging like hell. I reached for a washrag and in the process, knocking down all the bath shampoos and soaps. They timbered down with bangs and one monster soap bar hit my toe, causing more pain. So much for a relaxing shower.

I get the stuff out of my eyes and turn the knob off, tired of my awful luck, and step out, toweling myself dry. I pull on a small baby-blue sweater and tank top over my head and my favorite pair of jeans I recently bought; A size bigger in the hips than my last pair. I grin to myself, thinking about how my curves are finally getting in, especially the boob part, and then stopped because it was time to brush my hair.

I don't think I can do it. What if it doesn't come out?

...Oh _God,_ what if it doesn't ever come out?

_Don't be a Drama Queen,_ my inner voice scolded. Always the person quickest to criticize me...myself.

I sigh, take a quick breath, nod in determination, and lift my face to the mirror.

I think the shock showed more on my face than my smile. I looked alive! Not that drowned out Goth, dead in the face look I donned for nearly a month. I mean, my roots were showing, barely, but I couldn't take it any more and told Aunt Lauren, who gave me the shampoo for this. I finally get to see my blondness again, even though the color is a little bit darker than the original...**.**

_Just be glad your hair didn't fall out._ I smiled at my snarky inner voice; half knowing it won't come true, other...not so much, and lift the brush to my head. Please don't fall out. Please don't fall out.

Closing my eyes I ran the brush through my hair once and forced myself to open one eye and look down at the brush. Okay, good _so far_.

Once the seemingly permanent knots were freed from my still attached hair (thank God), I decided what the hay? Might as well be looking good if I'm up this early.

So I start curling the now past my shoulder length hair with this curling iron. Fifteen minutes later, I put on a fair amount of make up on, my amulet with its now purple stone, look in the mirror, and smile a gloss strewn smile.

_Yep._ I decide quickly. _This is the best it's gonna get._  
I lean closer into the mirror to check out my try of smokey eyeshadow from a magazine tip I read on the way here. Not too bad.

God, I hope there aren't going to be alot of people.

_Yeah, there will be and you know it. Who, besides Tori, would have enough makeup products in here to glam up an army?_

Ignoring that statement, I unlock the bathroom door and step out into the open expanse of the third floor -girl's floor- and pinpoint my bedroom door; hard, red wood with a painted moral of colors swirling and curling together forming a vague image of a flower with a giant rainbow emerald in the middle. I mentally note myself to remember that that door is _my _door, not the blue, wavy cut one with gold and brown glittered hearts everywhere and a stylish beaded curtain. I look to the left of it to find Tori's bedroom, a rounded black door with emerald green jewels plastered on the frame work with a matching door knob and a shiny silver tornado on the front with multi-colored sparks coming off of it. Perfect for a queen, as she says.

I roll my eyes remembering Tori's comment, knowing she was only trying to keep up her bitchiness that, surprisingly, has been dwindling down.

I shut the white bathroom door, which has a crude picture of a bathroom on it that looks like it was drawn with crayons, and head toward the big square railing in the middle of the floor that is attached to two massive staircases that branch off at the second floor forming an upside down U, and start tiptoeing down it as quietly as possible, past the boy's floor, trying to find the kitchen.

_Hmm, what shall I eat today? Since a good way to met people is not to have your face stuffed when you do._

God, don't remind me, I think to myself. Then think again, I really need to stop talking to myself.

We're at a safe house. Again. I hate it. We don't really have a choice though. We had to get out of New York, which is _apparently_, The Capital of Supernaturals alike everywhere.

I mean, we have too many groups after us, The Cabals, a Mega-Edison-Group-like compound intent on killing us once they get a chance; The Pack, capital T, capital P, who are now after my boyfriend who they think is a major threat to them; the media and FBI, who have my newly updated picture of me from the psycho Ward photos and who also think I'm a kidnap victim thanks to my boyfriend's previous out bursts.

They were all too much for my aunt and Kit, especially now that they have four teenagers, two that are a couple who are genetically modified not only by their genes but also, they fear, by their hormones as well. Not to mention two hybrid half-siblings with a mutual hatred for each other and they don't even know they're related. Yeah, again, too much to handle.

Though me and Derek do handle ourselves, nothing has gone past first base. Though they still fear, we are just teenagers. God, give us a break.

Anyway, so after Kit happily told us the news (He had walked through the door and threw suitcases at us while we were watching _The Sixth Sense_, ironically enough). The news he told us was that he had found a permanent safe living quarters, since he thought we were tired of living in hotels, which we were.

We packed up our bags and started on a three day car ride to Michigan. To a refuge area. Where it's supposedly safe.

Never again will I ride in a car that long with Simon and Tori having to sit together in the middle row of the van while Kit tried to make conversation with both of them. Can you say awkward?

Though the ride with my boyfriend in the back was fun, especially when you have two sets of headphones for your iPod so you can drown out sibling bickering and way too formal adult talk and your boyfriend is an excellent pillow and space heater, perfect to curl up to, sleep on, listen to his ragged breathing and heart beat as he softly sings "Wake Up Sleepy Jean" to you...**.**

I pause on the bottom step of the stairs, smiling at nothing and thinking about my boyfriend, Derek Souza. I still haven't officially gotten use to the new terms of our relationship yet, so for now I just call him my _boyfriend_. Well, at least in my head I do. Though I don't think he would mind much me calling him that out loud. My grin grew wider.

We arrived here last night at like twelve o'clock in the morning at a front gate that seemed to rap around darkness. It was an old gate, like Victorian era old, standing 10 feet in the air with rusted bars and spikes and that went and cut off into the snow-covered forest around us. A big swirly R on a giant golden plague was placed on the front bars of the opening, beautiful and shiny as it glistened in the snow falling night-light. Over all, it was impressive.

Derek sniffed the place like a bloodhound. Kit and Simon went out after him, Kit talking into a non-traceable cell phone while Simon searched the opposite side were Derek was looking, trying out his new spell that his dad taught him, a trick that turns your hands into flashlights, orbs of light illuminating from his palms. The rest of us -the girls- were told to stay in the car. Kit snapped his phone shut a few minutes later.

Out of nowhere then, the gate seemed to glow, light, light blue energy seemed to steam off the gate and then roll up into the sky, forming a misty dome barrier above the trees and whole area inside the gate that went on forever, becoming brighter and brighter until a super nova flash formed, the giant R on the door the brightest. Then the light cleared and I could see again, the gate was opened and I could see a long driveway inside.

"_Whoa_," Simon muttered, blinking rapidly.

After all that, the ride to the house seemed kind of short all though the road was fairly long. We were all wide-awake then after that whole flash thingy. No one really wanted to be surprised again, especially my boyfriend.

The house, well more like a mansion, was, like the gate, extraordinary. It stood three stories high and seemed to have a gazebo attached to the very top of it, off centered, a little green house on the other side. Also like the gate it was Victorian era styled. Colored in different shades of blues and of blacks, gray and white trimmings and moldings all around, on the doors and windows and on all three of the rap around porches on each floor. The windows were all different shapes and sizes, one as big as the wall, another circular like a boat window, some even squiggly patterns like the inside of a lava lamp. And flowers! Flowers and shrubbery and small trees everywhere, blooming. Some dark red roses and lilies trapped half of the house side, climbing as if toward the sky. Wind chimes blew softly in the snow breeze, making eerily haunting noises in the night. The house was beautiful, yet hauntingly unnatural at the same time. It was perfect.

Derek helped me out of the van, for a moment carrying me bridle style, at least, until Aunt Lauren saw us and gave me that _look_. But he still insisted taking his and my luggage inside through the huge dark hard wood stained door with an expensive doorknocker the size of my head shaped like an upside down crescent moon.

To my understanding, this place has been here for years. Supposedly the Supernatural government back in the day formed this place to help foreign Supernaturals get used to the new area and to continue to live their supernatural ways or whatever; Derek told me the details. But after the Civil War, not only humans but also Supernaturals fought for their freedom and a new government, the place was thought to be destroyed by a gang of redneck warlocks.

Or, so they thought. Turns out, Mr. Reddens, the guy that owns the place's, great-great-grandfather, had actually taken the house and the other people that lived here and hid them away with an ancient spell and told the new Supernatural Government that the enemy destroyed it. No one other than a selected few Supernaturals know about this place and Kit is definitely certain that this place is safe. For sure.

Derek says he believes also, and I don't know for certain, but I kinda do too. Shocker, right?

Anyway, after caring the luggage through the house, we were greeted by two people. One was a woman about my aunt's age, tall and willowy, with thick, curly and graying rust colored hair wearing a nightgown and robe, the candle in her hand the only source of lighting in the huge front room we were in. The other was an old man, about my grandfather's age, maybe older. He sat in a stainless steal wheelchair in a pair of pajama bottoms and a red coat, his hands shaking and sweat rolling down his face and into his long white beard, despite the ice cold weather. Although he seemed to be just barely there, there was this twinkle in his eyes and his dried old lips turned into a halfway smile that told you other wise.

Kit and Aunt Lauren -followed by Simon and Tori- stepped into the room then, looking as tired and as strung out as they probably were. Kit took one look at them and dropped his bags respectfully and introduced us, though I'm sure they probably had known about us if we were staying here.

The woman smiled at Kit and the rest of us while the old man kept his eyes on Kit, and if I'm not mistaken, on Simon as intently as well. When their turn came, the woman said she was Connie Croom, a Witch and high school chemistry teacher. I thought that was ironic for a Witch. You know, all the potions and stuff. Simon says only rare Witches still do that and it's also very offensive to them to assume that and all. Though like Socercers,like Simon, cares. What with the whole never ending feud between the two speices. Prejudice is everywhere!

The old man was well; Mr. Reddens himself, an elder Warlock. Kit and Aunt Lauren shook their hands furiously. Aunt Lauren halfway because she was shaking so bad from the cold, Kit like he was meeting a hero or something.

After that we were lead to our rooms, Derek holding my hand the entire time and we almost nearly snuck a kiss in when none of the adults were watching, but Simon jerked him in the ribs hard, making Derek grunt loud enough that the adults noticed. Simon winked at me with a sly smile on his face, as he and Derek were lead to their opposite rooms that had matching twin green doors; well I thought they were, anyway. When I looked at it again after they shut the doors and smiling at Derek, one was forest green with a shaded black picture of a forest and full moon in the middle, the other white with different shades of green all around in small doodles that covered the entire door, top to bottom. My eyes must have been _really_ messed up.

I'm glad Simon and I got over the whole awkwardness thing. He's my best friend now, next to Derek, even better than my old girlfriends. He jokes with Derek and me now about our relationship, and when he can, helps us sneak around, like kisses and dates and stuff. At least, when he's feeling generous he does.

After I'm lead to my door and Tori hers, we nod to each other and to the adults' goodnight and go in our rooms.

My room was breath taking, as big as my room back in the olden days. The walls were the color I always wanted my room to be, baby blue, and the high queen size bed was covered in a comforter with gray and white strips across it and black and blue outlined birds outstretched in mid-flight with artful paint splatters thrown in. A huge window sat behind it, black curtains pushed to sides. Snow embedded into every frame of the window, glistening in the light of the three huge white candles on my black dresser to the left. A similar vanity and closet to the right. I crossed the marble white and black swirled floor to my bed, thinking it's all a dream.

Then I woke up at six o'clock in the morning, realized it wasn't a dream, and couldn't go back asleep. So instead, I decide to lie there. Then with a panic, remembered how wrecked I probably looked and that with Tori on the same floor and who knows how many other people, I seriously decided to start getting ready.

So now forty minutes later, here I am showered, blond again; make up wearing, in one of my favorite outfits, hair slightly curled, ready to face people I barely know. Sounds fun, right?

_Just, God, please help me not raise some poor person's dog._I step off of the stairs and look into the big open area were we came in last night, and actually see it now since there is more candle light than just one stick. I spin around on the hard marble golden floor, looking up at the cut in the ceiling of the railings connected to the stairs. The room was alight with candles in little square holes in the white stone walls and two massive ones by the giant door and bottoms of the steps. Amazing I didn't catch on fire.

A giant red curtain hangs around the room, filling in gaps that weren't where the candles were. A couple of stands stood against the walls, holding vases or high in dollar knick knacks. I stopped spinning and then panicked for a minute when I saw two doors.

Which one do I chose?

Right then, I am hit with something so wonderful and so delicious, I have to blink and shake my head to think straight.

_What is that? Oh my God! That smells good!_

I close my eyes while I continue to sniff the smell, my feet turning to the right from were I was standing, my back to the stairs. I walk dreamily, my steps delicate and silent as it seems that I'm floating toward the smell like you see in cartoons. I'm that attracted to it; my mouth is watering, being pulled by an invisible string.

I open my eyes and find myself in the dining room, I'm guessing. There's this huge black table in the middle of the room, stretching from wall to wall, which the expanse of the room is wide enough that the table seems that it could seat an army.

_Maybe I was right about that whole enough supply to glam up an army thing...**.**_

Black chairs that look like thrones with velvet red cushions and lion legs are set bunched together but yet perfectly apart a good distance. White china dishes with gold laced around the edges sit in front of the chairs, along with forks, spoons, knives, and whine glasses. White candles like the ones from my room are placed about every three feet apart from the beautiful rose bouquet center piece in the middle of the table, a long narrow gold cloth under it stretching with the table.  
The ceiling is painted elaborately with swirly and squiggly black and gold designs interloping, forming a circle around a large crystal covered chandelier, also alight with many small candles.

_Why are there so many candles? I know they have electricity; the bathroom had light bulbs and a working power outlet._  
Dismissing my question quickly though, because I know I don't know the answer and it would be a waste of time figuring it out, I keep on walking past the chairs toward the smell and find myself face to face to a pair of swinging doors.

I pause and listen through the door to the faint sound of music -Lady Antebellum- singing smoothly through the cracks of the doors. My eyebrows crinkle and I push the door through and find myself looking at the kitchen.

It was nice like the rest of the house; smooth and polished, but not Victorian era. It was modernized and European styled with double stoves and a triple fridge, if that's even possible. The western wall of the kitchen was just windows and glass door, the eastern side wall lined with shelves and shelves of snacks, spices, herbs, veggies, and fruit. An island table top complete with a bar with golden marble swirled with pearl to match the floor was planted firm in the middle of the room, rapping around to join the side of one stove that was overloaded with pans steaming with delicious smells.

I was staring at the French toast and hash browns cooking intently so, that I didn't even realize there was actually someone cooking the food until that person yelped in surprise.

"Oh _my_, you scared me more than a porcupine sittin' on a whoopee cushion!" A feminine voice said in a very southern ascent.

I blinked away from the food and turned toward the voice. A tall girl with tanned skin who about Tori's age with long, medium dark brown hair and gray eyes stared at me with an amused expression on her pretty face. She wore a white elbow length button-up shirt unbuttoned with a dark blue tank top underneath and tight, form fitting jeans with a tied black apron around her delicately curved waist. A small silver chain necklace with a ring through it hung around her neck as she fingered it, her other hand clutching a pepper shaker. Her glistening white smile widened as she studied me, probably as intently as I was her, dimples forming under her high cheek bones. I blink at her then, realizing she was waiting for me to say something, and idiot me just stood there gaping at her.

"Oh. U-um, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, I just, u-uh, wanted to grab something to eat." I shift my weight to my other foot and try to give her a smile. It turned out to be more like a grimace.

"Oh, don't worry, hun." She smiles at me bigger, her cheeks forcing her long lashed eyes into slits.

She turns back toward the stove to where she adds some pepper to the scrambled eggs. "

I like a good scare now and then. You got me good. I thought I was the only person that gets up t'is early in the mornin'. " She glances back at me and waves her hand to one of the high island table chairs.

_Death trap_, I think, but stroll over to it and hesitantly hose myself into the seat. Not gracefully I might add. My legs were flying everywhere and my knees are gonna have bruises where I hit the sides of the island. Stupid shortness.

I cross my arms around my chest to try to form some kind dignity and look at the food in front of her distantly as I speak softly and answer her statement. "Well, I usually don't get up this early, either. But lately with the trip and-"

She cuts me off quickly, excitement in her voice like she just figured out the million dollar question, and turns. "Oh, _yeah_! That's right! Your with that new group that came in last night. I was just wonderin' and wonderin' who ya was. But I didn't want to be rude or anything and ask if I was suppose to know who ya were!" She smiles at me brightly again, but then, as a thought passes her mind, stops abruptly. "Oh, _darn it_! I didn't even tell ya who I was!"

She wipes her flour dirtied hands on her apron and reaches out her hand to me, a silver tennis bracelet with bell charms clanking together.

"Forgive me. My names, Twila. Twila Naaz."

"Chloe Saunders."

I reach out toward her sturdy looking long fingers with my nimble short ones and shake her hand. I was expecting to feel her hands warm from how close she is from the stove and oven, but surprisingly her palms are cold, like the snow falling outside the giant window cold. Ice cold.

A shiver runs up my back, prickling all my hairs up to my scalp, my teeth chattering loudly. Twila smiles apologetically and moves her hand away quickly, resting it against the counter top.

"Sorry," she says. "I can't control the temperature thing."

I frown at her, confused.

Her eyes fog over with some distant emotion. "They call me a Li-lix Half Demon. I can supposedly control the weather. Or that's what Mr. Redden says I can do, anyway. I don't really know though, all that ever happens to me is that whatever the weather is outside, temperature wise, is what my body heat forms." She smiles then, though the emotion in her eyes is slightly still there, "Weird huh?"

I muster up a smile like hers, "Not really. I've seen worse." I try to down play her confession, switching where the sympathy is going.

"Really?" She says, curiosity twisted in her words. "What are you?" A pause, a slight blush. "I mean, you don't have to tell me I was just wonderin' what it would-. Look at me babblin' again. I told myself not to do that, and look at me now, babblin' like a baboon. I really-."

She takes one look at me and the blush brightens on her cheeks. "Sorry. Do ya mind tellin' me what ya are?"

I smile at her, amused at her babbling. Then remembered why she was babbling. I really need to pay more attention.

I duck my head to the side, braking eyes contact. "Well, I'm a-."Right then I was cut off by the door on the eastern wall slamming open, sending icy air though the room with it. A big bulky figure stood in the doorway carrying a basket. I yelp in surprise, falling backwards in the chair with a thud as I hit the hard marble floor.

Twila came running to help me, shoving the chair up in place. Once she lifted me up, she looks over at the figure and starts yelling at him.

"Logan did ya have to come in so quietly! You nearly gave her a concussion!"

The figure-Logan sets the basket down on the island and takes his hat and hood off. He looks up and smiles at me, a nice big white toothy smile that gleamed in the stove light. He has shaggy brownish yet blond in some places hair and deep chocolate brown eyes. And he was TALL. Like Derek tall. And I'm beating if he didn't have so much clothing on I would say he had the almost the same muscle form too.

"Sorry, Darlin'. I didn't mean to scare ya or put a bump on your noggin'," He says with a big twine of a southern ascent. He holds his hand out to me; smile still sketched on his face. I reach out and shake his hand, my other hand resting at the back of my neck, shining my grimace smile.

"Don't need no welcomin' after that jump start ya gave her heart," Twila mutters under her breath.

Logan lets go of my hand and crosses his arms looking at Twila, smile widening by the second, eyes softening into relaxed amusement.

"Now, _Twila_, I already told the girl I was sorry," He says in a stern voice, trying to hide the laughter that tings his charade.

"Her name isn't _the girl_," Twila speaks in mock irritation, trying to hide a smile as she looks at him with narrowed eyes.

Logan smiles and looks at me. "Then what is _the girl's_ name?" He asks, keeping up the emphasis.

I return the smile, a real one this time. "Her name's Chloe." I say.

"Well, I'm honored to meet ya Chloe." He says and does a mock bow. "I'd be much obliged if you please don't press charges against that awful fall I severed you in some way."

"I can press charges here?" I ask while I laugh with him.

"Sure. You just go to Miss Priss over here," he points his thumb toward Twila, "and tell her what crime I've done to ya. That way she can add more chores to this list of errands she has me doin'." He reaches over and picks up a starch white piece of paper on the counter top, ink seaming to be blotted all over the page.

"Logan! You're the one that asked for somethin' to do t'is mornin'. Not my fault ya didn't know what ya was askin' for!" She says, walking over to the stove to turn off a switch.

Logan turns to me in a fake exhausted voice, "She works me to death. I'm just a work horse to her."

Twila turns around quickly, lips twitching for a smile. "Oh that's a lie!"

Logan rolls his eyes and continues to smile at her. He goes to say something else to her when a loud crashing noise comes from somewhere in the back of the house. Logan jerks around toward the door, confusion in his whole body language, while Twila and I connect eye contact.

"Now, what in the _world_-. " She starts, Right when then yelling picks up.

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**Hoped Ya'll liked it!**

**R&R please!**

**Any questions on WolfLove, please message me!**


	2. Hero

____

**So yah here's the second chapter!**

**(a/n: own none except my characters)**

**(Chloe's POV)**

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_~It's just another war_

_Just another family torn_

_Falling from my faith today_

_Just a step from the edge_

_Just another day in the world we live_

_I need a hero to save me now_

_I need a hero, save me now_

_I need a hero to save my life_

_A hero will save me just in time~_

_-Skillet, Hero_

"God _dammit_! You- " The voice was cut off by a loud ripping noise and another crash.

"Tyler." Logan says to Twila, jerking his attention toward her, like the name was answer enough. "Get something to protect yourself with. I'm gonna help him."

Twila looks frightened; her eyes are wide with concern and horror, her mouth slightly open in a grimace. But she pulls herself together enough to nod at him as she reaches for a frying pan on the wall behind her. Logan nods back at her and then turns toward the noise, but stops mid turn when his eyes land on me.

A look crosses his face like he's saying "Now what do I do with you?" but then another curse comes through followed by this time a loud thump and he jerks away, running through the dining room door toward the commotion.

"Oh my _goodness_!" Twila whispers to herself as the door slams behind Logan.

I'm pretty sure I look more confused than worried. I was searching Twila's face and trying to find out what the heck was going on. She turns toward me then, her whole being twitching with indecision as she takes me in. Probably the same thoughts that Logan was thinking passed her mind.

Another curse comes, this time a different voice. Twila looks toward the dining room door, after the voice I'm sure was Logan's, as she grips the pan handle hard.

"Twila! What's going on in there?" I yell, swinging my hand toward the door.

Twila glances at me, panic in her eyes. "It's Tyler. There's thi-."

"Logan! Watch out! Behind you!" A voice yells gruffly, like it was an effort to warn.

"No! Don't!" It shouts again, though this time with a sort of hatred.

There was a loud thump with an "_uf_" as someone hit the ground followed by a sound of wood splitting.

Twila gasped, her hand moving to cover her mouth. "Oh dear God," she mutters and then looks at me after a second of panic, her face contorted into newly formed determination. With quick movement, she grabs another pan off the wall and runs to me and shoves it in my hands.

"Chloe," She asks me, looking at me intently, "Do ya know how to swing this thing? Or to block with it?"

I look back at her, still confused. "Um, I g-guess. Why? Is that Tyler guy d-dangerous?"

"No. He's not. _Not at all_. It's the ghost. Mr. Reddens never thought it would attack. But ever since Tyler came in, it became more agitated. And now it's-."

"Wait," I cut her off from her hysterical babbling. "It's a g-ghost that's doing that?"

"Yeah. An _old_ ghost. It's been here for like ever. But it barely use to show itself. It just decided now to come out, ever since we came. I think it's 'cause we're outsiders. We're not from the original families."

"Original families?" I ask, taking in new details one by one. "Like the people that were here a hundred of years ago?"

"Yeah, exactly. We're not blood of the Prosapia, the original families. Mr. Reddens broke this rule to let us in, or something. The ghost must have been upset. And Tyler probably tipped it over somehow."

A crash sounds in the distance followed by two curses. "So we're dealing with an old ghost with a temper tantrum because we're not the Prosapre families' relatives or whatever?" I say, my brain running over with the new details I'm getting.

"_Prosapia_. And yes, I guess ya can call it a temper tantrum. A _dangerous_ one. That's why I gave ya that pan." She says and points at it.

A grim smile forms on my face. "You really think _this_," I lift up the pan, "is gonna stop a ghost."

Her eyes fog over and her smile matches mine. "No, not at all."

"Then, what are those guys doing out there?" I shout at her, frustrated at their stupidity. _Wow_. Seriously spending too much time with Derek. "It won't go away! They'll just be dodging it until they give out."

"They know that. Logan's protectin' Tyler." My eyes flash with confusion, but as if she read my mind, she answers. "Tyler's a Necromancer. He's gonna send it away, but it takes him some time to do that. A _lot_ of concentration."

I blink at the knowledge of there being another person like me here, but then think quickly and answer her. "But that won't send it away forever. It'll keep coming back."

"How do you-?" Twila's eyes flash as she leans back, looking at me in new light, as it dawns on her. "Are you a- I mean, you're a Necromancer?"

I nod at her, face impassive, cursing going off in the background. "Yeah."

She breaks out in a bright smile, "Then ya can help Tyler. I mean, I guess ya can. Can you help?"

I nod my head, anxiety pumping my heart hard. "If anything I can do, it's sending ghost away."

Twila nods back, taking in my double meaning well, even with the dark tone. "Okay, then. Let's-."

_CRASH!_ "Dammit! That was close!" Logan's voice yells.

Twila grabs my wrist, sending ice up my veins, "Let's _go_!"

I nod, enjoying the cold as it makes me focus more. And we run. Twila in the front, me following her. She throws open the dining room door, the noise is louder now that we're closer. We run past all the chairs and table, the candles throwing off our shadows in different directions. Twila stops at door that leads to the front room and stairs as we listens to what's going on.

"Come on! Over 'ere!" Logan's voice yells. "Ya can't even hit me!"

A swiping noise of something flinging across in the air comes through, followed by a thump as something hits and sticks in the wall.

"Shit!"

Twila's foggy gray eyes glisten in the light, worry embedded in the clouded irises. She grips her pan hard, trying to stop her hands shaking in anxiety.

"Okay. So what's our plan?" I ask, staring at her.

"Um, try not to die?" She sighs frustratingly, "I don't know." She closes her eyes thinking. "Okay, um. What do you need? Or need me to do?"

I look toward the door, thinking. "I…I need to see the ghost focus on it, so I can send it back."

Twila's eyes narrow in confusion, "But don't you need a…_something_?"

"Um, well I don't really have a something, so I'm going to say no." I say, glancing at her.

"So what do I need to do?" She asks earnestly.

"Um, try not to get hit?" She grimaces at me. "Okay, I guess, help me get over to where Tyler is or somewhere safe."

She nods at me, switching the pan from her left hand to her right hand. I nod back and she slowly pushes the door open a crack to see what's going on.

Automatically, I start thinking of running back to the kitchen and hiding.

Logan stands to the opposite of us in the middle where the stairs part into two different ones. He holds himself in a fighting stance, his legs spread apart, ducking and swinging a broken chair leg at everything that's flying at him; which ranges from candles, to chairs, to old paintings. There's a long cut on his right fore arm and his eyes are twitching and blinking through the sweat that rolls down his face as he searches for something. A dagger that looks to be ages old sticks to the wall behind him, inches away from his head.

The room's a mess. The long red curtain that rapped around the entire room is on the ground, half of it in shreds. Glass and porcelain pieces of antiques of all colors are planted all over the room, some embedded into the curtain, others into the stairs of the staircase-

And that's when I noticed him, the guy. Tyler.

He stands next to the staircase on the right, the one I came down on, a little bit behind Logan to the left. He's wearing what looks like a gray-and-black striped long sleeved sweater that is snug to his chest and tattered dark jeans, his left pant's leg ripped and covered at the ends with blood. His head is bent down, so I couldn't see his face only his shaggy brown hair, but he seems to be talking to something. Or maybe to himself.

I take a breath and glance at Twila who looks like she's about to cry. Pushing my way around her and into the room, I use the slightly turning wall to hide a bit, inches away from the swirling tornado of mayhem, and look over at the ghost, freezing in place as I take in something I completely didn't expect.

Instead of the scary ghost I expected, a screaming girl about seventeen or eighteen or so stood there looking as if someone had just completely messed up her day. Her blonde hair was falling out of the neat bun and flying around over her petite face and thin shoulders caught in an invisible wind. A dark green old-fashioned dress covered her body but seemed a little long on her short frame but yet hugged her just right.

Her hand shot up suddenly then and a expensive-looking vase flew across the room, smashing just next to Logan's head.

"Get- _OUT_!" She snarled, and raises her hand again and some fragments of glass rise quickly, liked being jerked by a string and is flown across the room toward Tyler.

Logan swings with his chair leg/ make shift bat, earning a couple of "_thwacks_" as some pieces stick to it, others crinkling to the ground. But he didn't stop it all and he jerks himself toward Tyler, screaming a warning.

"Tyler!"

Tyler's eyes widened as he jerks his head up to see the deadly pointed glass coming for him and he dives for the floor trying to escape, though one piece hits him on the cheek and a stream of blood flows from the small scratch mark. The pieces shatter against the wall and fall like ashes to the ground, no longer valid weapons.

Tyler, then from the floor, looks up at the ghost, his eyes narrowed, and pushes himself up- Just to have roll then as a splintered picture frame edge sails toward him.

Okay, time to interfere. Before someone gets killed.

Letting my eyes fall close, I force myself to remember how easy it was to get rid of ghost. You just had to stop panicking. I focus on the screaming girl -trying and failing to ignore the sounds of glass shattering- and sigh, picturing me standing next to her and giving a slight mental push.

"I told you to _STOP THAT_!" The ghost screams. "I _BELONG _here! _YOU_ should be the one _THROWN OUT_!"

I open my eyes and I watch the girl scream at Tyler, her face looking even more upset than before. She raises her hand and a china cabinet that rested behind Tyler starts to rattle and shake, and then lift inch by inch off the ground.

I look at it terrified and gasp. The ghost shouldn't be _that_ strong.

That is when I made two deadly Necromancer mistakes. One: I gave the benefit of the doubt on ghost abilities. _Never do that_. And Two: I gave away my position.

The ghost turns around, her lovely face contorted in rage and golden eyes blazing in hatred, the china cabinet long forgotten and planted back on the ground. I freeze in place, panicked, not able to think as the ghost's hypnotic gaze looks upon me. In the back of my brain I now realize why Tyler never did look at her directly.

I see a blur, something I can't recognize, and then a stinging disturbance on my right arm. Thinking dizzily that it was a gigantic bug that stung me, I swat at my arm, only to cause more pain. Confused, I tear my gaze away from the ghost and look down at my hand, which is covered in sticky wet blood.

"What the-?" A vase shard hits me again, this time my thigh, and I come back to my senses and realize what that stinging is; Pain.

Gripping my torn paints leg, I fall to my knees giving off a muffled cry.

"Chloe!" I hear Twila scream.

_It's nothing; you get hurt all the time_, My inner voice soothes.

But, God, it hurts!

_Shut up! Focus!_, It snaps. Always keeping it bi-polar.

I clench my hand around my thigh and try to breath normally, as I lift my head up to the ghost. Well, more of, the ghost's feet.

Just have to send it back. _Concentrate._

I squint my eyes again, and try to push the pain away in my leg and arm. Just have to push away the feeling of the hot gushy liquid pumping out of my wound through my fingers. Just have to push away the sound of my pulse in my ear and the screaming of-

BAM!

Yep, there's that stinging again.

I'm thrown sideways to the wall beside me, something pushing me in the gut, causing the breath to be knocked out of me as my head hits the wall with a dull thump, making my brain feel like it got thrown in a cage with an angry kangaroo.

"Are you stupid?" A voice yells at me. "You don't just stay there wide in the open while a ghost is _trying to kill you_! "

I blink my eyes, trying to see through my blurred vision. I start to tell the voice something that wasn't going to be very nice, but since my brain was in the middle of a boxing match- and losing, I wasn't really productive in come backs, so all that come out is a mumbled half-hearted "sorry".

"_WHERE_ are you Necromancers? Don't you _DARE_ trick me!" The ghost blares somewhere in the distance.

"_What_?" The voice whispers, confused. I blink again furiously, trying to clear my head, since shaking my head is out of the question.

And then, suddenly, my vision clears and I can see again. Tyler hovers above on his knees, our chest nearly touching, his hand clutching my uncut forearm tightly as he blocks me from the ghost. She's twirling around in circles, her dress blowing out around her, eyes squinted like she'd trying to see through a foggy window.

Something is shining brightly under us, tinted in a shade of violet and slithers of gold. Tyler's face is luminated by the light and I can see his features more accurately now. He has a nice face, handsome, perfectly crushable, this whole hot emo, guy-next-door vibe going on. Probably even plays the guitar. His eyes… can't really explain them, looks dirt-blackened brown with a tint of some other color- blue, yeah that's it.

He looks straight at me, frowning, and then he breaks eye contact and looks down for the source of light. I follow his gaze, surprisingly landing on my necklace.

_Weird._

"It never did that before…." I mutter, as I stare at the jewel as it shines from the curve of my neck, slung around on the new chain that Derek bought me to put it on.

"Mine either…." Tyler murmurs back, and I realized he was staring at his chest, where through his shirt a red light shone through the cotton material.

He jerks his back up, studying even more than before. "How- Who-?" He asks, to confused to make sense.

"_NECROMANCERS_! Answer _ME_!"

Something flies by us, just a foot away from Tyler's head.

"Where are _YOU_!"

"Why can't she see us?" I question, looking on at the ghost.

I see a blurred shadow moving in the corner of my eye and stiffen instantly, thinking it was another object. But once I zeroed in on it, I realized it was Logan sprinting toward the dinning room door where Twila lays on her belly, widening it for him. He plows through the door, does a little summersault, and then pulls Twila away from the door as a small porcelain statue of a soldier flies toward them and bust in half against the empty ground.

The ghost screams in agitation, her hands clenched tightly around her dress.

"I don't know…." He whispers, staring at the ghost. "Maybe its-."

"_FINE! HIDE_! There's still more of you!"

The ghost flips around, her dress billowing out around her, and she floats quickly toward the stairs. Objects swirl around her lazily, one bronze goblet soars toward her and she snatches it easily, gripping it firm in her delicate hands.

That's when I realized what she's doing.

Derek, Tori, Simon, Aunt Lauren, Kit. They'll never see what's coming.

"No!" I scream, struggling under Tyler's grip. He shushes me, trying and failing to shut me up, and I break free, stumbling onto my feet.

Once Tyler lost his hold on me, the glowing of our pendants stopped. Somehow I felt naked then, like a sitting duck.

The ghost turns around quickly, her face in a nasty smile. She stays on the staircase, but flicks her wrist and a silver plate, about the size of my head, is flown toward me, glistening deadly in the candlelight.

Most people would have been flipping out that something was coming at them as quickly as that, stayed planted in place, staring at it in disbelief. But now since all I've been through in past months, I didn't even glance at it, just stared at the ghost as I side stepped it, crouching then springing back up into standing position.

I narrowed my eyes at the ghost. I wasn't terrified of her anymore. She threatened _my_ friends, _my_ family, _my boyfriend_. No, the ghost should be afraid of _me_.

I pointed at her with one hand, my other fisted by my side.

"Leave," I say coolly.

She blinks at me, surprised, then anger takes over her and she screams at me.

"This is the _PROSAPIA HOUSE_! You_ ARE NOT PROSAPIA_! You _LEAVE_!"

"I'm sorry you feel that way, but _get over it_. We're not going anywhere."

She screams at me, pointing now just like I am. "You are vermin!"

"And you are dead."

I close my pointing hand into a fist, dropping it by my side at the same time I close my eyes. I imagine the ghost and shove her, forgetting how I'm suppose to be gentle. I don't care. I shove her as hard as I ever could, never holding back.

I hear a screech and I open my eyes to see the ghost as she fades, her hand still pointing out at me. Her eyes glinting like molted gold.

I stare back at her, not even flinching at her hypnotic gaze, as it becomes as foggy and non-existence as she is.

____

_

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_

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	3. My Girl

**Next Chap!**

**:P**

* * *

_"My girl (my girl, my girl)  
__  
Talkin' 'bout My Girl (my girl)"_

_~My Girl by The Temptations_

_Chloe's face shimmers in candlelight, the only source of light in the black void around us, her face intensified in beauty by the golden flames. Her strawberry blonde hair is braided to the side, strings of it too short to be contained, flies around her angelic face. She smiles secretly at me, her eyes shining brilliantly and glowing in their aquamarine color. _

_I smile back at her, in what Chloe calls my crooked smile. She gives off a tinkling laugh and grabs my hand, pulling both of ours up to her face. I look down at our hands, encircled together tightly. My huge, tanned, werewolf hand engulfed her small, cream colored, boney, Necromancer one. Two total different hands, two total different worlds and species. And yet, they look like they match together like puzzle pieces._

_My chest tightens, and I look back up to her face as she studies me intensely, searching my face for something. And then, I guess, finding it because she smiles again, her eyes twinkling brighter._

_She reaches for my face with her free hand and cups my cheek, and with swift movement, she pulls me down to her level, roughly crashing her lips to mine. Instinctly, since I am part wolf after all, I grab her waist with my free hand and pull her closer to my chest. She kisses me hard, her lips tasting like vanilla and honeysuckle, so lively and sweat, such a shocking difference from what her powers entitles. _

_I kiss her back as roughly as she is kissing me, until I have to brake and pull her up to my level, my body no longer able to take the strain of bending so lowly. Her hand wraps around my neck as she opens her eyes to me, mouth smirking. Well I guess she was smirking; I kissed her again too quickly to tell._

_. She shudders as our different body temperatures combine even more; mine hot and hers cold, putting even more emphasis on our differences. Just like how you begin a storm with the differences in temps, sparks seem to fly all around us, my low growling acting as thunder._

_Her scent surrounds me, incapacitating me. I breathe hard, having to break again, and rest my head on her forehead, trying to catch some air._

_Crashing noise goes off in the distance. I ignore it though, keeping my attention fully on Chloe; on this moment._

_Chloe lifts her head, smiling again. She kisses me one time on the lips, quick but lovingly, the softness of her lips leaving a lingering longing sensation on mine._

_The crashing noise gets louder, someone yelling now. I push away the noise._

_Chloe opens her mouth to say something and**-**_

"No!"

I jump out of bed, eyes flashing open, covers falling off of me, as my mind tries to comprehend what just happened.

Why did Chloe- _dream_ Chloe- scream no? What went wrong? What did I do?

_CRASH!_

The loud noise echoes and vibrates through my head and sensitive ears. I jump out of bed, breaking into to a fighting stance.

"Leave."

I pause in place, listening to that voice; Chloe's voice and her cold tone.

Something is wrong. Why is there _always_ something wrong?

A growl imitates loud in my chest in frustration. I reach for my pair of jeans on the ground and a black sweater that Chloe picked out for me (which is way too snug for my liking, but Chloe seems to like it) and fling them on. I don't even bother with shoes, not enough time.

Have to find Chloe. Nothing else matters, have to find Chloe.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, but _get over it_. We're not going anywhere."

Who is she talking to? Is it someone that lives here?

I reach the door, pulling the handle as hard as I can, though it barely budges. That is one super lock.

"And you are-." Her voice gets cut off as finally get the door to crack, and then I rip it open, not even bothering with the lock. I'll fix that later.

I find the staircase and fly down them, running as fast as I can.

I hear a thump as something hits the ground.

"Chloe!" A famine voice screams.

I don't know what I expected. A small temper-minted fight Chloe seems to always have, probably; But defiantly not what I found. That was last on my mind, the only reason I was down here; just in case. I never wanted to be just in case.

The room was covered in shattered junk, Just one huge mess; a gigantic Shredded curtain, porcelain and glass shards, broken picture frames, a dagger in the wall, splintered steps on the twin staircase: the works.

That wasn't the upsetting thing though. It was Chloe curled up on the ground that made me seeing red.

She lies in a puddle of her own blood, no visible movement, gaping wounds on her arm and leg. A boy in a gray and black shirt kneels over her, his hands touching her neck.

_Him._ Wolf hissed. _He did this._

I think there are two other people in the room; but I don't pay them any attention.

I growl at the boy loudly, the noise ricocheting all over the room. He jerks his head in my direction, eyes wide. His mistake.

I cross the room in one step, the other step I use to lunge at the guy. He tries to move out of the way but I already grab him by the shoulders and pin him to the ground before he could even blink. He kicks and tries to wiggle his way out from my grip, which makes it worst for the punk as I tighten my hold.

"What did you do to her?" I growl at him, bearing my teeth.

"I didn't do anything!" He yells back at me, still trying to break free and grunts in pain.

"Bull sh-!"

I'm thrown to the wall, pinned like I had the other guy. I bare my teeth and snarl at the person who tackled me. It's a guy, blonde, stormy animal dark brown eyes; everything about him makes my instincts cry "_Werewolf! Attack! Protect mate!_".

"Get hell off of me!"

"Not until ya calm down!" He growls back, digging his palm into the crook of the joint where my shoulder and chest connect. I notice the pain but don't voice it.

He turns his head and yells at the other guy, "Go get Krell and Mr. Reddens!"

The other guy nods back, running away. _Getting away._

I snarl at the werewolf, not knowing another word for what I did. I'm not thinking very well. Instincts are the only things controlling me. I'm viewing this through the human half of my mind, Wolf taking over.

So when I start to unfurl my fist and grab the other werewolf under the armpits, half of me is thinking "_don't do anything you will regret_", while Wolf is thinking, _"If I punch him hard enough in the jaw, will that kill him?_".

I jerk the werewolf to the ground, landing on top of him, not holding up my own weight, and straddle him by the hips, swinging my right arm to sock him in the mouth. He looks up at me in surprise.

_Yeah. I probably shouldn't be this strong, right? _I think to say, but don't.

I glare down at him, inches away from-

Two sturdy hands grab my arm right before I connect my fist to the guy's jaw. The curved tanned fingers clutch my arm like a vise grip, long trimmed nails cutting into my skin.

The hands are _cold. _Not like Chloe cold. But _ice_ cold.

I've never been this cold. Never thought I would ever be; I rarely get cold. Werewolf thing.

My body breaks out in violent shivers, every hair on my body standing on end. My muscles start clamping on my bones, making it hard to move. My teeth even start to shatter.

I snap my head painfully to where the person who doing this to me is. She was a pretty, tall girl with wavy brown hair and gray eyes. Her features are set with such determination that she doesn't even look that scared. Given that she's trying to break up a werewolf fight.

The werewolf, being fully thoughtful, takes this moment of my unmovbilaty to punch me in the gut, using his knuckles to shove upward in my rib cage. I cough up some blood I think, and fall to the ground, shaking.

As soon as I was hit in the gut, the girl lets go of me, and flings herself down to the guy, trying to see if he is okay.

As I'm lying on the ground, shaking horribly, I see Chloe. She's still the same as she was, curled up, blood soaked. Not moving.

I grit my teeth looking at her.

No. God, _no._

I pull myself up painfully to my hands and knees and start to crawl toward her. She was only about ten feet away, but it's still painful.

I never thought I would have to look at her like that.

Yeah sure, when we ran into Ramon and Liam that one time, the image crossed my mind. It was also that image that helped me force through the end of my change quicker. Not to mention the even worse thoughts when she got captured by the Edison Group. Or that time in the alley.

But to see her like this, for real, and not just a made up picture in my head; it's enough for me want to kill.

I reach her finally, her petite face covered in strains of her- curled hair? She's ghostly pale and barely has color, and she's bleeding too much around the wounds.

She shouldn't look like this. She's _my_ Chloe. _My_ girl.

But now that I'm this close to her, I realize that she is breathing- barely- but still. I reach for her small frame and pull her up into my lap, curving one hand around her waist, the other propping up her head.

What do I do?

I feel so helpless.

I hear the other werewolf get to his feet and move cautiously toward me, one step at a time. My low growl makes him stop and pull the girl behind him as they stand watching me. I don't care as long as the stay far away from me and Chloe.

I look down and see the red curtain on the floor. The image brings me back to memory of our escape of the group home when Chloe cut herself from the window, and it gives me an idea.

I release my hold on her waist and shred a long piece of the red curtain and tie it around her leg, tucking it over and over again, as tight as I could get it without permanently hurting Chloe, to put pressure on the wound. Then use another long piece to rap around her arm.

God, why can't she be bulletproof? Make this so much more bearable.

"That won't hold her forever you know?" A crinkly voice says gently behind me, tone kind but careful. "She's going to need stitches and a blood transfusion."

I turn toward the voice, Chloe wrapped up poorly in my arms. Mr. Reddens sits in his chrome wheelchair behind me in a gray long sleeve shirt and dark pants, a plaid blanket lying over his legs. He smiles sadly at me, his long white beard tugging at the edges. A guy maybe about in twenty or so with dark red hair, barely noticeable freckles, and dark blue eyes, stands beside him. He rushes beside me, bending down and looking quizzically at Chloe, studying her wounds and condition closely, like a doctor.

I hold back my growl as best as I could, try to reason with Wolf that Mr. Reddens is good. But Wolf just answers back by throwing me pictures of Dr. Davidoff and Andrew. And it just makes it harder.

The guy, from earlier, stands on Mr. Reddens opposite side.

"The infirmary is this way," The red haired guy says, standing.

I look up at him, trying to know if I can trust him with Chloe.

The only thing that got me up and running was Chloe jumping in her unconscious state and giving a muffled scream.

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	4. Lean On Me

**Hello all dorksters alike.  
I have returned to give you Chapter 4 of  
the New Begining!**

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* * *

_Lean on me, when your not strong,  
and I'll be your friend,  
I'll help you carry on._

_For it won't be long, till I'll need somebody  
to lean on._

_Please swallow your pride, if I had made,  
you need to borrow._

_For no one can feel those of your needs,  
that you won't let show._

_You just call on your brother, when you need a hand,  
we all need somebody to lean on._

_I just might have a problem that you'll understand,  
we all need somebody to lean on._

_~Lean on, by Al Green_

Doodling.

That's all I know what to do in a moment when I don't know what to do.

I wish I could do more. But I can't.

I hear Derek pacing back and forth down stairs, the hard footfalls echoing throughout the house. Why can I hear that from the top of this weird house but not a full fledged psychotic ghost fight?

__

"The house is very ancient, so supernaturally was it made that it might as well be a being itself. It comes to no surprise to me that it might have kept most of you locked in your rooms or kept you in the dark, letting no sound reach your ears." He says silently to us.

I wish the house could have done that for when Chloe woke up this morning. But yet I know that even though as supernatural as this house is, it couldn't tell the future. That or it knew Chloe would be the one who had to stop the ghost.

I smiled slightly and stopped my pencil on the pad.

She has become quite the hero now, defending her own self. Well, as much as her small body can.

__

Chloe covered in blood, her body twitching in pain though she is unconscious. Derek screaming at the Shaman named Krell as he heals Chloe, telling him to hurry. A girl named Twila crying into the arms of a guy close to Derek's likeness, a werewolf named Logan. A boy my height, a necromancer that helped Chloe, sitting out on the stairs with a girl with her back turned, bent down and talking to him. Dad and Lauren and the rest of the adults waiting inside the infirmary room with Derek, half for Chloe, half to keep Derek in check. Tori and I stand near the other teens, yet at a fair distance away. Tori having a haunting look in her eyes as she chews on her nails. Can't say I'm any better.

I continue my drawing, pushing away the flash of events that happened this morning. I curve the line of my next stroke and perfect the roundness of the eyes in one single swoop. I grab a color pencil then and trace.

I continue working without even thinking about it, or anything for that matter. The downing sunlight in the window cast an eerie glow in the room, but giving the picture light perfectly.

I reach out without even moving my eyes and grab my cup of hot tea. Yeah, still gross. But Mr. Reddens gave all of us some. A snack of some sort before dinner.

Good thing, too. I don't think I can handle dinner.

Not after that thing we called "breakfast". Just sitting at the too formal table with the rest of the teens, nibbling on slightly cold- slightly burnt food; Mr. Reddens coming in after what seemed like an hour of silence passing between all of us. He asked us all questions.

Lunch I ate in my room. Alone. With no questions, besides my own.

__

"What's going on? What happened?"

"It's Chloe. She's hurt."

Just ignore it, Simon.

__

Pitiful sobbing, hushed whispering seaming to swallow the place whole.

"Can't you hurry?"

"I'm doing the best I can!"

I groan and close my eyes shut, trying to force myself to reality.

She's fine. She's recovering.

__

But I should be watching her! Not forced up her hiding away from her!

I force my inner comments down, though they fight back hard, wanting to be heard.

No. I'm just her friend. Her closest friend. Nothing more.

__

How long are you going to keep telling yourself that?

I grit my teeth and clench my hand tighter around the pencil.

"I don't know." I sigh, looking at the picture of Chloe smiling up at me. "I don't know."

* * *

A knock sounds at my door and I flash my eyes open in surprise, my heart racing.

Did I fall asleep? Ah, man. I was only going to lay down and calm my nerves.

What time is it?

One o'clock in the morning?

"Um, Simon?"

I sigh and sit up in bed, noticing now who the person is.

"Yeah?"

"Can I come in?"

"Sure, Tori."

The door clicks open and a slither of light escapes into the room, shinning half my face. A small head pokes through, spiky and dark headed. Tori's eyes shine bright in the small lighting, though almost unnaturally so. She's been crying.

"Hey," I whisper.

She grimaces at me and closes the door shut behind her. The room's dark now but I flick my wrist and say a small chant hushed under my breath and light pours out above the palm of my hands, luminating the room.

She stands across from me awkwardly, hands crossed across her chest. She's wearing night clothes, a blue and green patterned silk button up shirt and matching pants.

"You missed dinner," she mutters, glancing around my room, eyes landing at my desk where my art supplies are.

I blink and sigh, pushing a hand lazily through my hair. It lays back straight on my forehead.

"Oh. Well, I guess I did."

She shrugs looking back at me, face blank. "You didn't miss much beside cricket solos."

I quirk a small smile. It goes away after a second.

"So what's up?" I question and fix myself so I'm leaning against the wall on my bed, legs hanging over the sides. I pat the spot beside me, inviting her to sit.

She looks at the spot and walks over, plunking down and leaning against the wall beside me, eyes straight and void of anything.

"I don't know." She whispers. She blinks and looks down at her hands laced together on her lap.

"Must be something," I tease half-heartedly. "You came to talk to _me_."

The side of her mouth twitches, I think. If she did smile it was half implied.

"There's no one else _to_ talk to. Chloe's-" She cuts herself off, half in a cough. "Well you know. Derek's….well, not really the most open hearted person to me. Especially now. Lauren and Kit are…adults. And the other kids are just….well, other kids. Strangers."

She glances at me. "It was either you or the house." She shivers. " And I didn't want to see if the house would answer."

"Yeah."

We sit there for a minute in silence.

"What do you think we're doing here?" She asks so quietly that I almost didn't hear.

I blink at her. "What do you mean?"

"Why do you think we're here?"

I frown and can feel my eyebrows crunching together. "I-…I don't know."

"Exactly." She sighs and drops her head, slumping her shoulders.

"Tori…" I sigh, unconsciously moving my hand to lie on her shoulder.

"Have you ever wondered what we're going to do, Simon?" She whispers.

"What do you mean?"

"Like as in what we're going to do with the rest of our lives? We can't hide forever."

"Well -actually we can-"

She jerks beside me, eyes flashing, hands extended. "But that's not living, Simon! The whole point of us of escaping the Edison Group was to be able to keep our lives. But how can we truly have our lives if we're not using them! If we're not _living_!"

I open my mouth to answer her- but nothing comes out.

How do you answer a question like that?

I've never been in a position like Tori is in now. I've always been on the run with my family, never knew what it was like to be normal or perceived as normal as much and as long as Tori has been. She's spent her whole life thinking she was just Tori, Queen Bitch of her high school. And now what is she? She's just an empty shell of what she was, and what she wanted to be.

"A-and now Chloe's-…." She chokes a sob and places her head in her hands.

Oh _god_. Please don't cry. I can't take more sadness.

"Tori- Tori c'mon… Chloe's going to be alright."

Her shoulders start to shake and lurch in shudders as she cries.

Usually, I'm good at this type of junk. I'm the lady's man after all, I'm the guy that girl's come to cry on my shoulders. But, _god_. I can't do this. Not with this situation, not with Tori; the girl who is suppose to be tough, the heartless bitch with no emotions, not the some-what-nice-girl who I've been traveling with and who's evil mom just died, and has no family or home or _hope_.

But I have to. I have to be that guy. Not in a romantic way, but in a friend way.

I reach out and grab her by the shoulders and pull her toward me. She gives a half-hearted shake to knock off my hands, but it's futile and she gives up after a second and snuggles up to me, placing her face into my chest and soaking it with tears. I don't really care. Hated the shirt anyway, Dad has awful taste.

I never seen Tori so upset like this before. And it kills me. But in this moment of me hugging her close and comforting her, I get this feeling of a bond being made, being formed. I get this protective feeling, not romantic, no defiantly not. But Brotherly. Like what I imagine what Derek feels for me, ten times the one I feel for him.

Tori's starting to feel more and more like my sister. I would have choked on that feeling months ago, because I supposedly hated her so much, but now it feels natural. Tori has laid her guard down, and actually let me in. Let us all in.

She hiccups a sob and turns her face to look over my shoulder. I don't know what she's looking at, possible the wall, but something makes her smile. A small smile but a smile never the less, and it hurts my chest. Because it's that loving feeling, that formed between us, and it brings joy to my heart to see that I could make her feel better.

To make my new family member feel better, even if she's not blood. Derek's not blood.

So tonight at least something good came out of it, I got a new family member; Tori- my now adopted sister.

* * *

**Okay! Awesomeness!**

**Hoped ya'll liked it!**

**Try to update soon!**

**R&R please! **

**:D**


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